Baz Edmeades (“ed-meedz.”) grew up in South Africa. His grandfather, Thomas F. Dreyer, was the
paleontologist who discovered an unknown species, Homo helmei. The new species was an immediate predecessor
of Homo sapiens,
and it lived 239,000 years ago — in Africa!
Europeans, the self-elected master race, naturally assumed that
humankind emerged somewhere closer to London.
White folks were shocked to realize that they were (gulp!) Africans.
South Africa’s Kruger National Park is home to megafauna
(large animals) that once inhabited vast regions of the world. Sadly, poachers have been pushing a number of
species close to extinction. This drove
Edmeades crazy. It inspired him to begin
research on a book that became Megafauna
— First Victims of the Human-caused Extinction.
During the project, he became friends with Paul Martin, who
strongly influenced his thinking. Martin
was the father of the Pleistocene overkill hypothesis, which asserted that overhunting
was the sole cause for the megafauna extinctions in North and South America. They occurred after humans crossed into the
Americas from Siberia, 15,000 to 20,000 years ago.
Other scholars disagreed.
They blamed climate change, and its effects on vegetation. But the extinct species had previously
survived a number of big climate swings.
Still others blamed disease, a comet strike, or a combination
of factors. The issue is highly
complex, and there is currently insufficient
evidence to unify the experts, and drive the controversy
extinct.
On every continent except Antarctica, there were spasms of
megafauna extinctions. They occurred in
different regions, at different times, not in synch with climate swings. There is real evidence that humans were not
innocent bystanders in these murder mysteries.
They likely played a primary role.
In Australia, some
say that the species driven to extinction 50,000 years ago were victims of
the newly arrived humans. On the islands
of New Zealand, Tasmania, Hawaii, Tonga, Madagascar, the Caribbean, and the
Mediterranean, extinctions occurred at different times, following the appearance
of humans.
Much earlier, Africa suffered a severe spasm of extinctions,
long before Homo
sapiens. The continent was
loaded with megafauna 1.8 million years ago, but many were gone by 1.4 million
years ago. There used to be nine species
of big
cats (three today), nine types of elephants (one today), four hippos (one
today). There were giant antelopes,
giant hyenas, giant pigs, giant monkeys, and giant baboons, all gone.
Some, including Edmeades, blame overhunting. At the time, our ancestor Homo erectus had
been busy, inventing a new and improved toolbox — knives, saws, axes,
cleavers. This was the Acheulian
revolution. They knew how to use fire,
and they may have been the first to use the wooden spear.
In North America, when humans arrived, there were at least
nine species of big cats, and seven species of elephants. The biodiversity was incredible — beavers as
big as bears, two-ton buffaloes, armadillos the size of VW Beetles. Until 14,000 years ago, mammoth country
ranged from Western Europe to Mexico. Aurochs
ranged from England to Korea, and south to India and North Africa. Rhinos ranged from Europe to Sumatra. Under downtown London are
the remains of hippos, elephants, giant deer, aurochs, and lions, residents of
the thriving rainforests of England.
Prior to the spear, our ancestors had been similar to baboons
and chimps, scavenging lunch from carnivore kills, and bludgeoning small
critters like monkeys and lizards. Over
many thousands of years, evolution had gradually made us better hunters. Changes to our bones and muscles improved our
ability to accurately hurl projectiles, and kill from a distance. Evolution also improved our long distance
running skills. Our ancestors were much
slower than antelopes, but we could chase them for hours, until they collapsed
from exhaustion.
Before the spear, we acquired new abilities very slowly, by evolving. At the same time, other species were also busy
evolving new abilities for countering our advances, and maintaining the balance. With our transition to tool making, we began
gaining new abilities by
inventing them, a far quicker process. Spears enabled our ancestors to subdue the
man-eating predators who kept them from exploding in numbers. This rubbished the laws of nature. Imagine rabbits inventing tools that allowed
them to overpower foxes. With spears, we
could also kill large game, acquire abundant meat, and feed more bambinos.
Like the trend of population growth, the trend of techno innovation
proceeded slowly for ages, until exploding in recent times. Innovation allowed us to temporarily sneak
around the checks and balances of evolution, and discover the painful consequences
of violating the laws of nature in a giddy whirlwind of blissful ignorance. We invented the ability to disrupt the balance
of nature.
All wild animals live in the here and now, paying acute
attention to the immediate vicinity.
None devote attention to the balance of nature, or to risks that may
arise in the future. If they get food,
they eat; if not, they starve.
Amazingly, some tool-making societies eventually developed a sense of
foresight. They practiced enlightened
self-restraint, which included taboos on overhunting and overbreeding —
never-ending responsibilities. Foresight
was a slippery path, and some groups slid
into domestication. Unfortunately,
societies that master self-restraint are helpless sitting ducks when discovered
by civilization — a serious and perplexing predicament.
What really captured my attention while reading, was
realizing the incredible abundance of huge, beautiful, powerful forms of life
that once thrived on Earth. It’s almost
impossible to imagine how spectacularly alive and healthy this planet was in
the days before the toolmakers. Today, it
feels like we’re living in desolate ghost towns, nothing but humans. I can walk alone all night without fear of
being eaten. Our soundtrack is the
rumbling, roaring, screeching noise of planet-eating machinery — not wolves, hyenas,
elephants, elk — the wild music of a wild land.
And so, here we are. We
have unluckily inherited a treasure chest of predicaments, all getting
worse. Do you think we can somehow find
a way to return to ecological harmony by continuing down the path of technology
— solar panels, wind turbines, nanotechnology, space exploration, computer-driven
cars?
Our closest relatives, the chimps
and bonobos, with whom we share 98 percent of our DNA, provide excellent
examples of the benefits of living in compliance with the laws of nature. They’ve lived in the same place for two
million years without trashing it. Humans
who study the school of life
can survive in tropical forests without tool making, but seven billion can’t.
Cultures die. The
culture of endless growth and insatiable consumption is moving into its
twilight years, as resource limits draw the curtains closed. A muscle-powered future will require a
muscle-powered culture. We could resurrect
the unsustainable cultures of centuries past, and repeat their blunders. Or, we could learn from their mistakes and try
something different and better — like rejoining the family of life, and obeying
the laws of nature. Imagine that. What can we do to move in that direction?
Anyway, Edmeades provides a long and fascinating discourse on
megafauna extinctions. Megafauna is an
unfinished work in progress (as of February 2015). The manuscript has not been copyedited, but
the text is well written, easy for general readers to understand. Edmeades’ deep knowledge of paleontology is
obvious. This is an important document.
Edmeades, Baz, Megafauna — First Victims of the
Human-caused Extinction, 2013. This fascinating
manuscript has been withdrawn from its home location (megafauna.com) for
updates. An earlier version is available
HERE.
In 2020 and 2021, Edmeades has been working to finish his book. Current news can be found at: https://www.facebook.com/MegafaunaDotCom/
In 2013, the Caustic Soda
program produced a slightly-serious interview with Edmeades, a 75-minute
podcast.
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